


What A Fortunate Dream

by rexthranduil



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: And some unwanted touches, As in 'I just dropped an actor into Middle-Earth' kinda AU, But things progress, Dubious Consent, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Lee gets a bit of beating, M/M, Mentally, Poor Lee, Psychological Trauma, Thranduil is damaged, Violence, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexthranduil/pseuds/rexthranduil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lee Pace is just your average (read: amazing) actor working on The Hobbit with his fellow actors (read: incredibly sexy people that make your body feel all warm and tingly). After a tiring day at the set, Lee heads home for some rest. Instead of rest, he finds himself in a fictional world, faced with things that he'd only ever dreamed about. Oh yeah, and the Elvenking of Mirkwood wants in his pants but that's normal right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dream A Little Dream of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the idea for this fic one night when I was waiting for sleep to come along. Anyway, I've thought about it and I've realised that I was really disappointed that there wasn't any Lee/Thranduil fics out there yet. I guess the inspiration for this is the fact that I've read Tom Hiddleston/Loki fics and found them to be brilliant. I just want for there to be one, just one, LeexThranduil fic out in the world because I think it's a brilliant pairing. [And I consider this revenge on Mr Pace for his adorable face].  
> This was originally meant to be a short one-shot - like most of my stuff is meant to be - but it's evolved and has decided to become a multi-fic and I'm not too sure where it's going to end up. Probably with me failing my first year of uni :p

It had been a tiring day, full of hard work and tireless repetition of scene after scene until Peter had been satisfied with the work done by dwarves and elves alike. Lee didn't really have much to complain about to be honest, he'd spent more time in the make-up chair having his hair, ears and contacts delicately placed, and just as delicately removed, than he had in front of the cameras. Still, there was only so long a person could stand, pretending to lean over a fellow actor who was nearly as tall as himself before you started getting cranky.

Which Lee hated with a passion. He hated being grumpy and depressed, anti-social and mean. It just didn't sit well with who he was as a person - lighter, happier, a real "social butterfly".... if you ignored the innate shyness and intense desire to not get into any sort of confrontation of course.

Don't get him wrong, Lee loved acting, he loved performing in front of the cameras because acting was his passion - it meant more to him than life itself. But just because he loved it didn't mean he didn't grow weary of the demands it placed upon him at times.

By the time Peter had decided they'd "got it down" it had long gone dark, the nights rolling in faster than Lee honestly expected them too, and he'd left well after 3 AM. He had a 7 AM start because his sword instructor wanted to go through another couple of moves before the "big scene" came up and Lee was too polite a man to leave him a message begging off.

Which meant he had to hurry home, get a shower - because he couldn't go to bed smelling like a perfume store since the stuff made him sneeze, much to Richard's eternal amusement - and then he had to stuff something down his throat lest he die of lack of nutrition. All of this before he could then get some shut eye meaning he'd probably only have three hours of rest before he had to be up and ready for his 7 AM sword-torture.

Sliding his key through the lock of his front door, Lee hurried inside to get away from the roaring wind that felt like it intended to flay him alive, kicked off his muddy shoes by the door and bolted up the stairs as quickly as he could. The sooner he got showered and fed the sooner he could sleep.

It took him all of twenty minutes to shed his clothes, get all squeaky-clean and volley down the stairs into the kitchen where he popped the kettle on and waited for the oven to reheat the pizza he'd got for takeaway last night. He didn't have the energy to make himself anything healthy even though he was usually pretty strict about what he ate when on a film.

Thirty minutes later, stomach happily filled and his throat no longer longing for a soothing cup of hot chocolate - it was good for his sleep okay - Lee slid underneath the covers of his queen sized bed and let out a sigh of contentment.

He was asleep before his head even fully touched the pillow. The storm raging beyond his double-glazed windows, of no concern to him in his sleep-induced bliss.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of birds flitted through his ears, the feel of something hard and rocky beneath his body disrupted him, the smell of grass and earth disturbed him. The sensation of being completely vulnerable roused him and forced Lee to sit up on the ground, blinking away sleep as his did so.

All around him were trees. But they weren't like any trees Lee had ever seen before - they looked ancient and strong, mighty and old but also like they were withering, gnarled in places when they should be smoothly young and supple. The air felt like it was burning with electricity, the static making his hair stand on end as his eyes darted about frantically.

Where the hell was he?

"Hello." Lee called out, his voice raspy and hoarse. He swallowed and tried again. "Hello? Is anyone out here? I- I think I'm lost."

He stood up, arms wrapping around his torso protectively, his hands tucked under his armpits, as he stood awkwardly in the middle of what looked to be a clearing so some sorts. The trees directly in front of him were wrapped in vines and looked as though they were straining to break free.

He shivered. It felt so strange, surreal even, like he was in a dream and-

Is this a dream? It must be. Lee could clearly recall the long day at the set, the hurry home, the rushed shower and filling pizza, and he could vividly remember how he'd climbed into his comfortable bed for a few hours rest.

Had the others played a trick on him? Snook into his house and spirited him away to the middle of nowhere? Were they laughing, thinking about him lost in the woods while they were all safe and warm in their bed?

Or was he really just stuck in a dream?

Running a hand through his hair in exasperation, Lee failed to notice the eerie silence that had befallen the forest - even the rustle of the leaves on the trees had ceased. The sound of crackling twigs and rustling bushes from behind however caught his attention and he spun around suddenly, well aware of how pathetically vulnerable he was barefoot and wearing just his grey-flannel pyjama bottoms and t-shirt.

Lee watched and waited with baited breath, slightly terrified of what might burst out of the bushes - it could be a mad man wielding an axe come to murder him for being on his land, it could be a wild dog pack that would tear him to shreds. What Lee wasn't expecting it to be however was an Orc. Or someone dressed up as an Orc.

"What the?" Lee exhaled, his heart beating rapidly, as he felt his body relax and a laugh threatening to burst from his chest. "Oh har har, good joke."

The extra looked at him darkly, beady eyes fixed on Lee as he let out a small laugh. The extra smirked, revealing sharply pointed teeth and hefted the axe it was carrying high above his head as he suddenly propelled towards the stationary actor.

"Fuck!" Lee exclaimed as he suddenly realised that the axe was very real, the six-inch slice in the tree behind his head was clue enough, and he darted away. Drawing on all the elven grace he'd had drummed into him by the choreographers, Lee managed to put a good few feet between himself and the crazy extra. "What the hell are you doing!?"

The extra ran at him again, brandishing the axe like it was a natural - if somewhat gaudy - extension of his arm and Lee's only saving grace was his speed and agility. He sidestepped the swinging axe, leaning back as he did so, and then spun on his heel and kicked out at the extra's unprotected flank - thank you Dean!

He felt like his foot had been broken. It was like hitting fucking concrete for Christ's sake! The extra grunted in surprise, the kick to the side having earned it a slight limp which was nothing compared to Lee's own. He could barely stand to put any weight on his foot!

Realising he had no where to run, and that he wouldn't get very far even if he did, Lee stumbled back as the extra approached him - slower this time but no less menacingly - and Lee let out a small cry of surprise and pain as he tried to put weight on his injured foot and instead fell backwards.

Scrambling backwards Lee found himself backed up against the trunk of a tree, staring his demise in the face, breathing rapidly as his eyes widened in abject terror. He was going to die. Here. Wherever the hell here was. At the hands of a crazy extra. And no one was going to come to his rescue.

"Oh God." Lee whispered, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he prepared for the death blow. In his mind he couldn't help but think about the people he was leaving behind and if they'd find out what happened to him. Would they search for his body? Would they find it? Or would this crazy extra bury him in a shallow grave, or eat him...

A quiet whistling sound, followed by a 'thump' in the place of the sensation of being decapitated by a bloody axe, caused Lee to open his eyes and he let out an exclamation of surprise and fear at the sight of the dead extra. With an arrow embedded in his neck. Black blood pouring from the wound and sightless eyes staring at him.

Before he was able to process what the hell had just happened several figures dropped down into the clearing from the trees above, each of them lithe and spry, taller than most people Lee knew, and all of them were sporting bows that were pointed directly at Lee.

"Man esselya ná?"

A tall figure appeared directly to Lee's right, clasping a strung bow in his hands as he stared down expectedly at him. Lee blinked and looked up at the man, doing a double-take when he recognised the features of the man holding the bow aimed at Lee's throat.

It looked like Orlando. But it wasn't... Lee could... well, he liked to think he knew Orlando well enough to recognise him, not based just on his looks or voice but on his personality. The person looking at him right now was not Orlando.

It was Legolas.

Prince of Mirkwood.

"Man esselya ná!" The not-Orlando spat out again, his grip tightening on the bow, the arrow quivering at the tension it was being put under. Lee realised that if he didn't say something, like his name, that arrow would become twin to the one in the extra's throat.

"Lee. My name is Lee Pace."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ada!"

The sound of Thranduil's only son calling his name caught the Elven King's attention like few things could.

"Mani naa ta Legolas?" Thranduil asked, dismissing the guard giving his usual summary of the activity on the border with a wave of his hand.

Legolas hurried up to his father's throne, followed more sedately by two guards who seemed to be hauling an unconscious form between them. "Ada. We found an Orc scout in the forest near the Old Roan."

Thranduil's face did not change even though his eyes sharpened their gaze upon the unconscious form. Surely that could not be an Orc scout? It had... too much hair. And there was a distinctive lack of the smell of death and filth that accompanied all Orcs.

Legolas, taking his father's silence as a go ahead to continue speaking, said. "We also discovered a man in the forest. He had been attacked by the Orc scout. We intervened before he could be killed."

"I see." Thranduil said, finally, after a long silence during which the two guards had reached the King's throne, bowed and one of them had lifted the head of the unconscious man so Thranduil could see his face.

"Is he injured or did he put up a fight?" Thranduil asked, still staring at the man, a strange niggling feeling in his stomach for the man seemed young but familiar. Surely Thranduil had never met him, he had not ventured beyond the borders of Mirkwood for centuries. Even this man's ancestors probably had never seen him.

"Both." Legolas replied simply. At Thranduil's sharp glance at his son, Legolas elaborated. "He was injured before we dispatched of the Orc scout. He resisted being blindfolded and led so I knocked him out."

Suppressing a sigh at his son's behaviour - honestly, Thranduil couldn't judge his son for he had done much the same when he was younger - Thranduil focused his attention on the guards holding the man up. "Take him to the healers. See to it that he is treated and then provided with chambers to rest within."

"Ada." Legolas asked, ignoring the guards' bow of acquiescence at his father's orders and their swift departure with the unconscious man.

"Did you ask his name?" Thranduil asked, reclining in his throne as he looked over at his son. At Legolas' nod to the affirmative, Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"He said his name is Lee Pace." Legolas answered. "And that this is not his world."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the second time in what felt like far too short a time span for Lee's liking, the actor found himself stirring from the depths of unconsciousness. Only this time, instead of sleep induced unconsciousness, he'd be unceremoniously wacked over the head with the hilt of an elven blade. Which, by the way, fucking hurt!

Groaning, Lee sat up slowly. God, it felt like his head had a marching band stuck in it with an elephant stomping around for added effect. Raising a hand to his head, Lee realised he was lying on a bed in the middle of what looked to be an exquisitely designed room. There was a fire crackling away in the hearth to his right, a small table situated just to its left with a goblet and a tray of fruit and vegetables on it. To his left there was a large, oak door with brass inlay - well he assumed it was brass, for all he knew it was gold - and a second, smaller door that was open and led to, from what he could tell, was the bathroom.

Sliding slowly and carefully off the bed, noting that his ankle wasn’t aching and he felt better rested than he had in months, Lee gingerly moved over to the table by the fire and sat down in the chair beside it. He picked up the goblet, brought it to his nose and took a cautious sniff. It smelt like wine, but fruity and vibrant - more like the freshly made cider’s he’d had in his teenage years had smelt than the usual grapey and bitter wines he’d experienced. Taking a small sip, Lee realised that it was sweet. It honestly tasted more like freshly squeezed fruit juice than it did an alcoholic beverage.

Deciding not to let himself down the goblet then and there - because he’d obviously regret it - Lee placed the goblet back on the table and instead focused on the food that had been left for him. He tentatively picked up what looked to be a grape and popped it in his mouth.

Flavour and vibrance exploded on his tongue and he suppressed a moan at the taste of the fruit. God, nothing compared to this! He quickly devoured the food, not at all afraid of becoming unexpectedly drunk from the fruit and vegetables before chancing another sip of the wine.

It was only after he’d finished with the food and placed the goblet back down on the table than he realised that someone was stood in the doorway to his ~~gilded cage~~  room. Someone who looked very familiar.

“Thranduil.” Lee let out a quiet gasp, more of surprise at seeing his own face reflected back at him than at seeing the Elvenking in the flesh. Well, no, that wasn’t really true. He was in a wee bit of shock at seeing the Elvenking but he was dealing with that. “Holy shit.”

Mostly.

“I see you know my name, son of man, but you have yet to give me yours.” Thranduil said smoothly, his face betraying nothing, as he swept into the room, the door shutting near silently behind him. He moved swiftly towards the still sat Lee who scrambled to stand.

“Lee. Lee Pace.” Lee answered breathlessly, moving so he had the chair between himself and the Elvenking. He’d been in the elf’s head long enough to have something between them. But he wasn’t going to think about that, or the whispers he’d heard from Aidan and Dean when he and Richard had finished the scene in the throne room between Thranduil and Thorin. Nope. Wasn’t going to think about that.

“Lairion.” Thranduil said softly. “That is the elvish translation of your name Lee Pace, son of man.”

Though he did not show it, Thranduil was intensely amused by the man’s, by Lee’s, actions as Lee moved further away from the Elvenking every time he moved closer to him. It stirred his mischievous side and the Elvenking was soon moving purposefully until Lee found himself cornered between the bed, the wall and the Elvenking.

“T-That’s nice.” Lee stuttered, hating how he couldn’t even keep his own voice from trembling as he stared, wide-eyed at the elf cornering him. “I- Uh- Thank you for letting your- healers fix up my foot and all that but I- I should really be going.”

“Going where?” Thranduil asked, the corner of his lips twitching as he continued watching the young man stare.

“I- uh- home?” Lee floundered for an answer as his eyes darted around, looking for a way past the Elvenking who was now close enough to be in his ‘personal space’.

Closing his eyes for less than a second, Lee suddenly found himself pressed back against the wall, a six-foot-whatever Elvenking pressed against his chest and his arms held in a deceptively light embrace.

Whatever air had been in Lee’s lungs disappeared as he stared, wide-eyed at the Elvenking’s face that was impossibly close to his own. So close he could feel the soft whisper of the elf’s breathe on his lips. He could feel his body shivering, muscles quivering at the suddenness of the situation.

Leaning his head forward Thranduil suppressed a cruel smile as Lee’s head shot back and hit the wall behind him eliciting a sound of pain from the man. He brought his lips close to Lee’s ear, revelling in the fact that Lee was breathing heavily and shuddering from his proximity. “You were found in the middle of my forest, about to die at the hand of an Orc scout, with not a weapon upon you. Nor any supplies for a long journey. Do you honestly expect me to believe you are travelling ‘home’?”

Lingering for a long moment, enjoying the tenseness of the muscles Thranduil could see in Lee’s neck, his tongue darted out and licked the shell of his ear causing the young man to jump and tremble more profoundly.

Thranduil couldn’t help but feel that this was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Man esselya ná" = "What is your name?"  
> "Mani naa ta Legolas?" = "What is it Legolas?"  
> "Lairion" = "Lee" [apparently IDK]


	2. Revelations To Be Had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some revelations to be had. Thranduil's past is discussed. Lee becomes a voice of reason and tries not to reveal too much.  
> And the author is seriously regretting even thinking up this pairing because she has discovered she cannot write a simple fic but rather a full-fledged frickin' novel.  
> Lovely right?

Had anyone ever asked Lee if he believed it possible to ever meet a character he portrayed for film or play, Lee would have laughed good naturedly and answered that, though he believed it impossible, it would still be a fascinating experience to interact with someone who was but a concoction of a writer’s imagination.

Luckily for Lee however, no one had ever asked him such a question pertaining to the Elvenking of Mirkwood and so he had no need to ‘eat’ his words… only to swallow the gasps and whines that the form of the Elvenking elicited from his body, trapped as it was between the Elf and the smoothly finished wall of solid… whatever it was, wrists held in a light embrace with the King of the Woodland Realm - a fictional fucking character! - pressed against him.

The sensations that assaulted his body would normally have robbed Lee of his reason, for instinct is a difficult thing to ignore, but the very-real body of a fictional character permitted Lee to retain a thin thread connecting his control with his reason and restraint. Though the thread, Lee feared, was fraying at a dangerous rate as the abnormally warm body leant gently against him and the Elvenking’s wet tongue darted out and traversed the length of his neck from collar to the base of his ear.

His breathing was already ragged and fettered by the fear and uncertainty that pooled in Lee’s gut, encased in desire and want, and it became more erratic at the sensation of Thranduil’s soft breath on the now damp skin beneath his ear. The desire to struggle, to escape from the corner he had been corralled into, to force the Elvenking to relinquish his hold upon him, to release him from whatever thrall caused his body to burn with both need and fear, was strong, almost overwhelming, but Lee retained that thin link to his reason still. It was that narrow connection, narrowing further the longer the King of the Woodland Realm was pressed against his body, which enabled Lee to resist the urge to struggle, to fight. To fight against the Elvenking would not only be foolish as he was considerably weaker than him, but would also serve to ignite a fury in the sindarin elf that Lee did not wish to be on the receiving end of.

“I- I don’t expect an- anything f- from you S- Sire.” Lee stuttered, his head pressed back against the wall hard enough to cause a dull throbbing sensation at the base of his skull. Though Lee understood that he was truly trapped within Middle-Earth – though he had absolutely no idea as to how or why – a part of his mind prayed fervently that it was all just a surreal dream from which he would soon awaken. It was not in his nature to stop hoping, to accept things that he did not understand nor agree with, and so it was this which caused Lee to add. “I… I just w- want to g-go h-home.”

Though Thranduil was distantly irritated with the fact that the mortal man, Lee, seemed to truly believe he was not of Middle-Earth – an impossible thing truly unless he travelled from the West, and wasn’t that an interesting thought since no man had ever travelled to the Undying Lands of the West – he was more interested in making him fall apart so as to learn his true purpose for having been discovered in his forest. He smoothly lowered his head down towards the mortal’s jaw, his lips mere millimetres from the sensitive skin that was smooth and pale, so much so he could have mistaken the flesh for that of one of his own kin. The proximity of his lips to Lee’s jaw made the mortal’s body, trapped within his grasp, become completely rigid, muscles stilling, chest barely moving as though Lee was attempting to cease breathing in the scent of the Elvenking pressed lightly against him.

“One can make their home wherever they wish, can they not?” Thranduil murmured, secretly amused by how tense the son of men was, at his mercy as it were, breath hot and electrifying Lee’s skin with every soft puff of air between the Elvenking’s lips. “A home is more than the materials it is made of is it not Lairion?”

Lee hissed when Thranduil pressed his body against Lee’s own, their relative height allowing for their groins to collide. Muscles tensing, Lee resisted the urge to push the Elvenking away from him, to move any part of his body now would not only increase the embers in his gut but would also result in receiving the displeasure of the King of Mirkwood. He could not help however twisting his wrists in Thranduil’s light grasp and then was unable to muffle the whimper that Thranduil’s grip, tightening to the point of pain, elicited.

“I’m dreaming.” Lee whispered, words forced between his clenched teeth as Thranduil pressed him into the wall, the grip on his wrists now iron and impossible to break out of, if Lee even possessed the strength to try. “Please let me be dreaming.”

Eyes tightly squeezed shut against both the reality of the situation and the pain from his wrists, Lee did not notice the way the Elvenking drew his face away from Lee’s neck and looked at him, fury igniting in his silvery-eyes.

Stumbling at the sudden loss of the Elvenking’s form pinning him to the wall Lee’s eyes snapped open, eyes wide, pupils full-blown in both fear and muted arousal. The Elvenking of Mirkwood had withdrawn, relinquished his hold upon the son of men, and was now situated beside the fireplace, sitting in the chair Lee had vacated at the arrival of the Elvenking less than ten minutes ago.

Unsure as to what to do, for surely running would be the wrong thing to do – he couldn’t escape the room since there was a guard posted on the other side, and if he attempted anything against Thranduil he would be a very dead actor – Lee settled for moving slowly to the other side of the room, ensuring there were as many obstacles between himself and the Elvenking as he did so.

“A dream you say.” Thranduil’s smooth, melodic voice echoed in the room, startling Lee who was standing nervously against a different wall – this one looked to be made of a mixture of stone and dirt if the small leaves and roots growing in the cracks were any indication.

Lee stared at the Elvenking, whose own gaze never left the flames he sat near, eyes reflecting the burnished orange and seemingly burning themselves. It made Lee nervous to look upon the King of Mirkwood so… not still, but rather forcibly restrained. Almost as though what he was seeing of the King’s still form was an illusion, a carefully crafted guise that would be discarded the moment Thranduil had whatever it was he desired.

“How do you know what is truth and what are lies? How is it you are so certain that you are dreaming now when it is possible you have but been dreaming and this is the true world you have been hidden from for so long?”

Lee blinked, unsure as to what the Elvenking was getting at, but weary enough to not ask what it was the Elvenking wanted from him. He had a fair idea of that anyway. Shifting awkwardly, rolling his shoulder in an attempt to loosen the tense muscles, Lee looked away from the form of the Elvenking long enough to study the flames. The soft rustle of fabrics moving however drew his attention back to the King of Mirkwood who was moving towards him again, slowly but surely.

Body seizing momentarily in fright, Lee’s eyes widened as he pressed back against the wall behind him. Watching Thranduil move around the heavy oak table Lee had dined at earlier he realised that, unless he wished for a repeat performance of Thranduil trapping him, then he needed to move now.

Thranduil, aware of the fear Lee held of him, decided to utilise it to its fullest - alongside his not-so-inconsiderable physical strength and speed - and so from a position of relative stillness, near the table, he sprung. A clear leap over the plush settee and, had Lee been any slower in scarpering, he would be able to, yet again, trap the mortal man. Only Thranduil was not aware of Lee's speed, nor of his understanding of Thranduil, and so he was not prepared for the mad dash Lee made for the door - having decided to take his chances with the guard outside than linger any longer with the Elvenking.

It was perhaps this thought, driven by fear and a need to escape, that was Lee's downfall for it allowed Thranduil the chance to anticipate his prey's next few steps and to plan accordingly. As Lee sprinted for the door, only a few feet from where he had been, he failed to take into account that Thranduil was far faster than he; indeed, so fast that there was but a brief moment between Lee dodging the Elvenking and finding himself gripped in an iron embrace that forced him face-first to the ground with such ferocity it drove the air from his lungs and caused him to cry out in surprise.

Thranduil, not even breathing heavily, sat astride the mortal man, hands gripping his shoulders tightly and he leaned forward until he could whisper in Lee's ear.

"Why do you flee from me knowing it will only incense me further?" He hissed, words harsh and full of restrained anger. His eyes flashed dangerously, though Lee could not see, as he moved a hand to grip Lee's short hair and pull his head back eliciting a cry of pain from the man pinned beneath him. "Answerme."

“B-because I-” Lee cried out, tears springing forth from the corner of his eyes as Thranduil’s grip pulled loose several hair follicles. “I’m afraid!” Lee howled, thrashing in a desperate bid to dislodge the Elvenking but only succeeding in tiring himself and causing Thranduil to place a hand between his shoulders and press his body to the ground - whilst still retaining his grip on Lee’s hair and causing him further pain.

Abruptly Thranduil used his strength and weight to force the mortal’s head to the ground and pin it there, making Lee moan as he blacked-out for a brief moment due to the sudden pain. Though he could not understand it, Lee knew that Thranduil was angry at his fear, incensed that Lee was so afraid of him that he ignored the etiquette of Middle-Earth just to get away from him. It didn’t make what the Elvenking was doing acceptable, heck it didn’t even make it forgivable, but Lee understood his reasons nonetheless.

Of course, Lee also believed that Thranduil enjoyed seeing the fear in Lee’s eyes but disliked the idea of Lee escaping from him…

“As you should be.” Thranduil hissed, his nails cutting into Lee’s soft flesh making blood well up in the new wounds. “You entered my Kingdom with neither my permission nor knowledge, were saved by one of my patrols and then you sought to hide from me, to flee my presence when it is my mercy that has allowed you to live this long.”

Suddenly Thranduil’s nails withdrew from Lee’s skin, eliciting a quiet whimper, and Lee shuddered as Thranduil’s fingers drifted across his face, his cheek, along his jaw and to his lips where they rested for a moment before the descended to his neck. It felt almost like a caress, and Lee may well have found it pleasurable were it not for the fact that his heart was beating wildly, blood pounding in his ears, pain in his head, and that he was pinned to the floor, unable to move, by a creature that was thousands of years older than him and infinitely more damaged.

“Were your hair longer and your ears pointed, I could have mistaken you for an elf…” Thranduil murmured softly, his fingers resting lightly on the pulse-point in Lee’s neck - a casual reminder that, if Thranduil wished it, he could choke the life out of him and Lee would be able to do nothing to stop him.

“N-not one of the S-sindar th-though.” Lee stuttered, his words quiet. He felt Thranduil’s fingers press lightly against his neck and closed his eyes, readying himself for his death - he didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to die.

“You could be mistaken for myself if your hair and eyes were the correct colour.” Thranduil whispered, the words almost inaudible to Lee but he caught them, just.

Why did he not realise this before? Lee’s eyes snapped open and he held his breath as he realised that Thranduil’s anger was borne more so out of his own personal feelings about his visage than about Lee’s actual presence in Mirkwood. How is one supposed to react when they discover a near-copy of themselves, undamaged by war and fire and death?

“I-In my world…” Lee began slowly, intimately aware that what he was about to say may well get him killed. “I p-portray an elf… a-an elf w-with s-silv-silvery h-hair a-a-and b-blue eyes.”

Even though he was unable to see Thranduil from his position, Lee could tell he had Thranduil’s absolute attention by the way the elf’s body stiffened above him, the way those fingers on his neck flexed and their nails scratched his skin.

“H-he ha-had a g-great responsibility.” Lee’s words grew softer, his stutter disappearing as he continued to speak and Thranduil didn’t move to silence him - temporarily or permanently. “Though he was c-considered by some to be cold and a-aloof he felt deeply… so much so that he could f-feel the earth and the trees around him. He’d seen war, lived through dozens of them and had loved and lost in his many years… he had known joy and pain, loss and betrayal. And he had even known… the burning agony of fire.”

The hand between Lee’s shoulders moved, distracting him from what he was saying, and Lee forced himself not to panic, to not let the fear he was now trying to keep at bay, from overwhelming him and driving him to do something else that would do more harm than good. When he felt the hand trace the shell of his ear, the large curve and the soft lobe, Lee forced himself not to flinch and instead continued to talk.

“This elf had once been a prince, an heir, but became a king on a sad day full of pain and death, when evil sought to ruin all. He became the ruler of a realm that he felt he could not rule without his father’s aid.” The hand tracing Lee’s ear stopped, fingers pressed lightly on the lobe. It made Lee pause, aware that what he was discussing now was a very sensitive topic for Thranduil… the last thing he needed was for the Elvenking to remove his ear.

“But he did what he could, learned to be a ruler who acted for his people and put their needs above his own… even to the point of securing trade agreements with races he did not trust in order to benefit those whom he served.” Lee paused for a moment as he licked his lips and swallowed, hoping to soothe his dry throat.

“Even though he distrusted these other races he still provided them with aid and wisdom, though it was not always graciously accepted.” Lee heard Thranduil’s breath catch but he didn’t allow it to distract him from what he was saying. “And although this angered him he still did what he could to help when suffering befell them in the form of fire and madness. But what could a single elf do to help when the fire brought back memories and the pain of loss long-since repressed? How could he do anything but be trapped in his own mind with the unexpected arrival of fire that laid to ruin all that was known to two races and had taken from him much he had ever known?”

Lee’s questions, rhetorical in nature, went unanswered and for a long moment Lee waited for Thranduil to speak, to tell him to be silent, or to silence him himself. Instead Thranduil’s body slid off of Lee’s own, moving to the side slowly and Lee found himself able to roll over and sit up, resting his weight on his hands as he propped himself up and stared at the Elvenking.

Thranduil’s face, usually an impenetrable mask of cold superiority, was twisted with pain and grief, though Lee could see the quiet surprise in the elf’s eyes at Lee’s knowledge of his past. The Elvenking stared at Lee and Lee stared back, chest heaving as he tried to associate this… fragile looking elf with the one that had cornered him, assaulted him against his will and then forced him into submission when he tried to escape. It was maddening how Thranduil’s moods changed so suddenly, almost without warned and Lee found himself hard-pressed to discern a way of gaining his freedom without further angering the Elvenking. So far he had not been fortunate.

“I wondered why a king, as long lived as this elf, wouldn’t come to the aid of his allies… even if they didn’t appreciate the truce between them. I couldn’t really think of a reason - giving aid to a group of fleeing individuals, survivors from a horrific attack would give the king an advantage over his allies. I thought to myself, ‘what would stop a king from helping people who needed help’? At first I figured, well if helping other people would endanger his own then a king would certainly not help, not in any official capacity.” Lee paused, licking his lips nervously as he looked at the Elvenking whose gaze had not wandered from Lee. Clearing his throat Lee continued, trying to ignore the penetrating stare. “I realised that nothing really would stop him, not someone who had been on the receiving end of the reluctance to send aid to overwhelmed forces, to those seeking help. But something had stopped him; not reluctance to act, not animosity though I’m sure many thought it was the reason, something infinitely more complicated had caused him to fail to aid those who needed refuge. But what?”

“Pain.” Thranduil’s voice was low and raw, so unlike the smooth and controlled voice Lee expected that his gaze snapped to the Elvenking’s, locking with those stormy grey orbs that Lee could see were full of pain and regret. “Pain, I have found, has a particular effect on one’s actions. Pain can blind us, can bind us, it can render us incoherent, even if it is only a phantom of itself.”

“You… sensed Smaug’s presence, didn’t you?” Lee asked, staring intently into Thranduil’s eyes, reading the truth in those old and wise eyes. “And it reminded you of the pain you’d felt before, the pain caused by another dragon… a long time ago?”

“I was a child when Doriath was attacked by dwarves seeking the Nauglamír. They slew Thingol in their mad quest for the Nauglamír and there followed were a series of assaults, attacks and kinslayings. Dragons were rare but not unheard of, indeed I received my injuries when I was still young - which is the only reason why they healed and I am not blind. Had it not been for the skill of the healers and my father’s own efforts I would surely have perished. My father took us from Doriath and established this realm. He fell in Battle during the Last Alliance and thus I became King of Eryn Lasgalen.” Thranduil’s words were softly spoken but held in them an intensity, a pain and still raw grief that Lee could do nothing but stare at the Elvenking. Pity stirred in Lee’s heart but he refused to give voice to it, because he understood Thranduil would not appreciate pity. He was not telling Lee this because he wanted pity, he wanted to be understood. To not be seen as the enemy.

“The dwarves of Erebor have, at times, reminded me of those in Doriath but truthfully, on Thrór and his lust for treasure reminded me so of those who took the Nauglamír from Thingol. I had offered advice to him and his son, though they did not listen. I did not expect a dragon to descend upon Erebor, did not know there were any close enough to the Lonely Mountain to have been drawn by its wealth.” Thranduil shook his head, a small, mirthless smile etched upon his features. “I was a fool. Gold will always draw a dragon and always shall until the last of the drakes is slain.”

“You could not have known for certain that Smaug would attack Erebor.” Lee pointed out gently, trying not to flinch when Thranduil looked at him, eyes blazing suddenly.

“It matters not! I should not have been so complacent. Complacency kills!” Thranduil snarled, body tense as he leaned forward.

As suddenly as Thranduil’s anger arose it dissipated, leaving the Elvenking looking tired and worn. Lee could not help the urge to get up and draw the Elvenking to his chest so he stood up instead, slowly so as not to startle Thranduil, and moved over to the table where the goblet was still half-full with wine.

He picked it up and carried it over to Thranduil, the sound of his footsteps loud in the near silent room. Crouching down he extended the hand holding the goblet so that it was in front of the Elvenking who took it from him without comment, though he did give him a small nod in thanks.

Lee waited patiently for Thranduil to finish with the wine before he took the goblet from the Elvenking’s slender hand and moved away to place it back upon the table. It was while he was doing this that Thranduil began to speak again.

“I am connected to this forest; it and I are irrevocably tied and, through it, I am tied to the very earth itself. It is for this that I was able to sense Smaug’s attack upon Erebor, though I was rendered useless by the pain his presence returned to me.” Thranduil stood slowly, looking far older than he had only moments ago, almost as though his true age was beginning to wear him down. “By the time I was cognizant again it was too late for Erebor and the Dwarves had moved beyond my reach; only Laketown and the survivors of Dale were near enough for me to aid.”

“You didn’t travel to your border and observe the dwarve’s retreat?” Lee asked, curious. He sat down on the chair both he and Thranduil had previously sat in early in the evening and watched as Thranduil moved smoothly to perch on the end of the bed. There was nowhere else to sit in the room - bar the table.

“No. Though I was informed those who followed the journey of the Dwarves to Ered Luin that they all believed I had.” Thranduil frowned as he looked at Lee and he found that he had the urge to ask the mortal a question which had bothered him for many years. “Why do they believe I would turn away from them in their hour of need?”

Lee was quiet for a long time, trying to figure it out himself. Why indeed. Why would an elf help a dwarf, what with all the bad blood between the two races? Why wouldn’t the dwarves believe the worst of Thranduil and all elves? Who would stand to gain the most from spreading seeds of distrust and hostility between the two races, who had both been part of a truce? Who indeed…

“Perhaps someone made them see something that was not truly there?” Lee hazarded, trying not to reveal his own knowledge of the Necromancer and Sauron. He no longer believed he was in a dream, no longer believed he was hallucinating, so he decided that he had to be careful what information he did reveal lest he change the fate of Middle-Earth. “Maybe they did not like the truce between Elves and Dwarves and sought to end it? Maybe Smaug’s presence and the effect he hand upon yourself was the perfect opportunity for them?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise in advance if my Middle-Earth history is inaccurate or vague. I'm not actually that well-versed in it (a shameful thing I know) but I've tried to accomodate my own personal headcanon for Thranduil so... uh please don't hate me if I've messed anything up.  
> Also, Thranduil is, in this fic, mentally unstable, emotionally unstable and psychologically damaged. He's experienced trauma and I'm very sorry to Lee Pace but I'm using him as a veritable punching bag so Thranduil's issues can be resolved.  
> I read an interesting thing about how Lee drew inspiration from The Fisher King and Oberon for Thranduil's character and I guess I'm utilising that (since they're both characters from myth I happen to know about) in order to flesh out the Thranduil I have in my head and the one I'm attempting to write.  
> Kudos' and comments are appreciated! :)


	3. Further Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwarves are discovered in the Greenwood, Lee has his work cut out for him and both Legolas and Tauriel are freaked out by how alike to his Ada Lee happens to be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for how long this has taken to update, I had an awful time of it with trying to figure out where to take this fic - my brain has a mind of its own and I basically went through about a dozen different routes before I settled with this one... mostly.  
> Anyway, I don't know when I'll next update, it could be tomorrow it could be next month, it just depends on time and motivation on my part. I apologise for this but I am trying my best to not leave this fic hanging... you guys deserve better than that.  
> As always, if you like it then give me some kudos and leave a comment (they do wonders for my self-esteem sweeties)!!  
> Kathryn xx

Lee found himself trapped in the icy stare of the Elvenking, sitting prone on the cold stone floor of the chambers Lee had awoken in. His words hung heavy in the air, thickening the atmosphere of the room to such a degree that were words capable of being seen they would have obscured Lee’s sight entirely. Though he would never say it aloud, Lee realised that what he has said, the revelation made available to both of him and Thranduil, was by far one of the most important things he’d ever said or ever would say in his life. But, before they could process this revelation in its entirety and before Thranduil could compose a response to Lee, the door to the chambers, the one which had a guard on the other side, burst open, its heavy oaken mass slamming into the wall, as Legolas bust into the room with a harried looking Tauriel close on his heels.

“Ada!” Legolas burst out, taking in the scene that greeted his sharp, elven eyes – his father sat, sprawled, on the ground not two feet from the mortal man he’d captured in the forest, both looking dishevelled and disturbed. Instantly drawing a conclusion that was only partially true, Legolas surmised that the mortal had upset his father, had angered him and had sought to cause him harm. And so, for the second time in as many hours, Lee found himself on the receiving end of Legolas’ intense glare and – instead of an arrow poised at his head – a thin elven dagger resting against his throat hard enough to draw blood.

Tilting his head up and leaning back, attempting to flee from the blade without moving too suddenly, Lee prayed that he wouldn’t die here, after all the revelations of the last... twenty minutes had left him and the Elvenking reeling. Literally.

“Legolas!” Thranduil’s sharp voice cut through the low static noise that was building in Lee’s ears and echoed in the stone chambers. There was a clear, but unspoken, command in that single word which had Legolas withdrawing immediately – so quickly in fact that Lee was left momentarily confused at the sensation of something wet and warm trickling down his neck, until he realised it was blood from a small nick on his neck, just beneath his ear. Raising a hand he pressed down on the flow, trying to ignore the fast developing nausea over the fact that he had indeed been injured – twisting an ankle, whilst painful, was far less... psychologically and emotionally jarring than feeling skin tear and blood pour.

“Ada.” Legolas challenged, though not directly – it was a mere hint in his voice, slight and almost easy to miss – as he stared at his father who rose gracefully from his position on the ground. Thranduil’s face had again returned to its impassive mask of cold indifference, only his eyes belied his displeasure – the cold orbs sparking with ire at Legolas’ presumptive actions.

“Why do you disturb me?” Thranduil demanded, deciding to ignore the fact that the mortal still resided on the ground; hand pressed to the small wound on his neck, as he stared at his son who wisely averted his gaze and lowered the stubborn set of his shoulders; instinctively backing-down against his father.

Tauriel stood behind Legolas, watching the mortal man who – now clad in simple elven clothes – reminded her quite strikingly of her King. Though his hair was short, ears not pointed and eyes dark, the shape of his face and even the way he held himself – even sat prone on the ground – was familiar to her to such an extent she found herself unable to look at him for more than a few seconds, disturbed as she was by this mortal’s similarity to her lord. It did not seem... natural that one of the race of men could look so similar to an elf, let alone her lord. Tauriel could not help but feel as though something greater than her had acted to bring this mortal into the realm of the wood-elves.

“Apologies Ada. We discovered a number of dwarves in the forest being accosted by the spiders. They currently reside in our dungeons, though their leader _demands_ an audience.” Legolas replied curtly, his words clipped and eyes flashing, clear as day was his opinion of the dwarves. It was true that few elves held any love for dwarves, and even fewer dwarves any respect for elves, and Legolas was of the ilk that all dwarves were untrustworthy, dishonourable and worth only insults. It was an opinion he had learnt from his father, for Thranduil himself had little love of dwarves – stemming from his experiences in Doriath – and it was no secret that Thror, late King Under The Mountain, had given great offence to Thranduil in the past.

“Does he? Well, provide them with food and whatever else they require – whether it be healing or bathing – and leave them for the time being. Though, inform their leader that I will speak to him after he has rested.” Thranduil murmured, a mixture of amusement and irritation at the arrogance of dwarves – demanding an audience with him, how very like a dwarf – as he moved towards Lee and held out a hand for him to take.

Lee, realising that he couldn’t exactly remain sat on the ground, took the proffered appendage and found himself hauled quite suddenly to his feet and would, normally, have stumbled from the sudden transition, however weeks of training had paid off and he didn’t stumble or fall on his face, though he did wobble slightly as his hand was still pressed against the small cut on his neck.

Legolas lingered for a long moment, taking in the mortal now stood next to his father, noting the similarities between them both and, like Tauriel, found himself shocked and slightly disturbed by what he saw. His father was quite tall, even amongst his own kin, but this mortal was easily the same height as him, indeed he had even the same stance and body structure – the only true difference between them both was that the mortal’s hair was short and dark and the eyes dark and lacking the shadows he saw in his father’s whenever he was lost in memory.

Lee, aware that he was being surveyed by Legolas, looked at the Prince with a measured gaze, weary of the weapons on his person – he had quite enough of Legolas and his weapons to last him quite a while! He understood, in a detached manner, what fascinated Legolas so – he looked, to the Prince, just like his father. Lee was certain that, if he ever met a doppelganger of his own father he too would be confused, disturbed and interested in them. But he still didn’t enjoy the intensity of Legolas’ stare – honestly, Orlando had nothing on the real Legolas, even if he was an excellent actor.

Legolas, realising he had been staring for longer than was usually acceptable and that his father was aware of his staring, quickly looked away from the mortal and bowed to his father, as did Tauriel, before turning sharply on his heel and leaving the room as quickly as he’d entered. The door closed behind them and, once more, only Lee and Thranduil remained in the room – the crackle of the fire the only audible sound in the room as neither moved or said anything.

For a long, long time both Lee and Thranduil stared at one another, equals in ways that neither understood but accepted instinctively – they were too alike to deny that, one some level, they were equal and so could trust each other whereas before Lee had feared Thranduil and Thranduil had despised Lee. The silence was broken only when Lee moved his hand away from his neck and winced at the smeared blood on his palm. It was this sight of Lee’s bloodied hand and the blood drying on his neck that spurred Thranduil into action.

“Sit.” Thranduil said, his voice soft but firm as he reached out and placed a hand on Lee’s shoulder, using his grip to direct him to the seat he’d originally sat in when Thranduil had first entered the room less than an hour previous. Lee, unable to think of any reason as to ignore Thranduil’s soft command, and unable to muster up the energy to try, concerned as he was with the blood still running down his neck, did as directed without a word of complaint.

Thranduil let go of his shoulder and moved over to a small cabinet in the corner of the room, diagonal to the bed, just beside the fireplace. He rifled through the drawers until he found what it was he sought and, when he returned to the Lee, the mortal saw that Thranduil had dug out a bandage, a small ceramic bowl which he’d filled with water, a cloth and what looked to be some sought of salve or paste.

Realising what Thranduil intended to do, though secretly surprised that the Elvenking would actually treat Lee’s injury as he was a King and such an act was surely beneath a King, was it not?

“I was taught how to treat minor injuries as my father demanded I know how to tend to myself. He wished for me to be self-sufficient.” Thranduil explained, aware of Lee’s confusion at his actions. It was not ‘normal’ he supposed for a mortal king to know how to tend to the injured but Thranduil was not a mortal king – he was an elf and had lived through horror where he saw so many ‘nobles’ unable to do much more than add to the death toll. “I also found it prudent to learn the art of healing after my own experiences revealed to me that it is better to be prepared than not at all.”

Reaching out, Thranduil removed Lee’s hand from his neck and ran the cloth – which he’d dampened with the water in the bowl – down the bloodied expanse. Copper brown streaks on the pale flesh were all that remained of the blood, though it began to flow afresh from the wound, and so Thranduil quickly wiped the remnants away before dipping the forefinger and ringfinger of his right hand into the salve and smeared it over the wound – the past acting as a natural sealant. Lee hissed at the coolness of the salve before sighing at the pain-numbing properties it held. Thranduil then picked up the bandage and carefully wrapped it around Lee’s neck, loosely but not so much so that it would come loose, and tying it.

“A wise decision.” Lee commented as Thranduil finished tying the small knot of the bandage. He reached up with his unbloodied hand and felt the bandage, noting that whilst he could not see it, it was professionally done. He knew a good number of nurses who couldn’t compare to this type of skill.

Thranduil inclined his head in silent acknowledgement of Lee’s comment and offered him the damp cloth. Lee took it with a mumbled thanks and wiped the dried blood off his hand, making sure to get as much of it off as possible.

Lee placed the cloth on the table beside the ceramic bowl and stared at it for a long moment, trying to weigh his words so as to not inadvertently anger the Elvenking who seemed much calmer than he had been when facing his son. A part of Lee was curious as to why Thranduil had been so angered by his sons actions, but then another part of him was reluctant to consider the possible reasons for such a response – and it was that part which won out in the end, leaving him to ponder other matters. Such as the dwarves that the elves had captured. They would surely be Thorin and his company, and it was obvious to Lee that his very presence had changed the natural order of the things – since Thranduil had met with the dwarves immediately upon their capture instead of denying them an audience. So Lee reasoned that, since he’d already upset the timeline, there was no real reason, beyond catastrophic failings, of not revealing what he knows. Well, some of what he knows.

“Why do you think there are dwarves in your forest King Thranduil?” Lee asked quietly, not looking at the Elvenking who still stood over him, his very presence radiating the inner-light of the valar that was part of all elves.

“I do not know.” Thranduil responded smoothly, deciding to seat himself in another chair so that he was sat adjacent to Lee, the action catching Lee’s attention and enabling the Elvenking to lock gazes with the mortal man. “Though I sense you know the reason for their presence in my wood.”

Lee squirmed slightly in his seat. His earlier fear of the Elvenking was not completely gone, but it had dimmed considerably as he’d begun to understand the King of Mirkwood more intimately than he had thought possible. Most especially since Thranduil had treated him with considerable kindness in tending to his injury – Lee was resolutely refusing to think about the ache in his side and the slight pounding in the back of his head from Thranduil’s earlier treatment of him.

“Well, I was just thinking... what is there for dwarves near Mirkwood? Why would they travel any distance if not for some reason, some great quest?” Lee riddled, attempting to avoid answering outright – he preferred letting Thranduil reach the conclusion himself instead of just providing it to him, simply because he was uncertain how Thranduil would react to such a blunt declaration from him. Better to let the Elvenking deduce the reason for Thorin and his company’s presence in Mirkwood himself than for Lee to be in the potential firing-line.

Thranduil, realising that Lee was reluctant to speak further, and had instead spoken his queries aloud in a bid to force Thranduil to consider possible reasons for the presence of dwarves in his kingdom decided to humour the mortal and play-along with his attempts.

“There are the Iron Hills to the east, they may well be travelling there for some reason.” Thranduil theorised, watching Lee’s face closely and noting the slight frown that met his words – obviously that was not what the mortal believed the dwarves were planning. “Of course, they could be traders, seeking a trade-agreement.” Again his words were met with a slight frown so this conclusion was obviously wrong.

“Maybe they’re seeking their home?” Lee queried, trying to look away from Thranduil’s intense gaze, visibly uncomfortable with how focused the Elvenking was upon him. Especially since the ‘home’ of Thorin and his company happened to be a mountain which housed one, currently, sleeping dragon that had caused Thranduil to relive a most traumatic experience.

“Erebor...” Thranduil breathed, realising what Lee had meant, understanding the intent behind the presence of the dwarves. “They seek to return to Erebor though a dragon slumbers there. They will bring ruin upon us all!” Thranduil stood suddenly, his face twisted with fear and rage.

Lee shrunk back in his chair, attempting to make himself smaller than he was, as Thranduil moved almost violently across the room and towards the door. The Elvenking was almost at the door when he stopped suddenly and whirled around, pinning Lee with a burning stare. “Come!” He almost spat and Lee shook slightly as he scrambled to do as ordered.

His fear of Thranduil had returned, driving into him a desire to be as far away from the Elvenking as possible, but his mind was stronger this time and had already purged him of the instinct to run from Thranduil – as the last two times he’d attempted that hadn’t ended well for him. So it was with clear reluctance and muted fear that Lee moved to walk behind Thranduil who opened the door of the chambers so fiercely the oaken wood splintered when it impacted against the wall.

Following silently and thanking the fact he had been born with long legs, Lee refused to look around himself, choosing instead to stare at Thranduil’s back, as he followed the Elvenking through the underground passageways of his fortified palace up to the throne room where he issued an order for the prisoners to be brought before him immediately.

Lee, uncertain as to what he should do now, lingered in the shadows not too far from Thranduil’s throne – close enough for the Elvenking to see him but not so close that he could dart out and grasp him in his iron-grip again so soon. The position he’d chosen also had the added benefit of making him less easy to notice courtesy of the shadows he stood in.

He stood in silence, avoiding looking at the Elvenking who he could feel was full of rage, fear and something else... something Lee couldn’t name, and gazed intently into one of the flicking torches mounted on the pillar’s that supported the ceiling a hundred feet above them.

The way the artificial light bounced off the stone walls, mostly absorbed by the roughly hewn pillars and pathways did not lessen the mystical, almost magical feeling that suffused Lee’s being as he took in the sight of the Elvenking’s domain. He was certain he could see what looked to be fireflies flitting about between the pillars, their little lights warming the air with a soft glow that the torches couldn’t hope to match, and it made him feel as if he were in the midst of a dream... which he probably was but the general consensus about dreams was that you couldn’t be hurt while you were dreaming because it was a natural instinct to shy away from pain, or something to that effect, Lee didn’t much know the theory behind the statement, he only hoped it was a lie otherwise his life had just gotten a lot more complicated than it had been several hours ago.

Either way, whether or not he was dreaming, the fact remained that Lee was currently standing in the throne room of the Elvenking – though like the set he’d been stood on only hours before, it was less of a throne room and more of a viewing platform to survey the large cavern that made up the main hall of Thranduil’s stone fortress – waiting for, what he presumed to be, the arrival of Thorin at Thranduil’s angered request. With a mild sense of dread Lee believed he may well have to intervene – though how exactly was something to ponder indeed – lest the Elvenking lose his temper and have Thorin’s head. That was the last thing Lee needed – possibly altering the history of Middle-Earth, if he was actually in Middle-Earth and not dreaming, because he’d pushed Thranduil to his breaking point by being himself.

Awkward just didn’t cover it, Lee thought wryly as the sound of heavy boots pounding on the stone passageways reached his ears. He turned to look in the direction the sound emanated from and saw, quite surprisingly, a well-groomed, and clean-looking Thorin Oakenshield. Evidently Legolas had already provided the King Under the Mountain with the necessities one provided for a royal guest. Either that or Thorin was really efficient. Possibly the latter.

Had Lee been paying attention to Thranduil, as he sat, or more accurately, draped himself across his throne, he would have realised that Thranduil’s eyes were focused upon him and not the dwarf currently being led towards his throne. He also would have realised that his hearing was better than the average human’s judging by the mild surprise that flickered within Thranduil’s eyes for a brief moment before being replaced by cool aloofness.

The icy veneer coating the Elvenking’s shattered being was all but impenetrable save but to a few, and it was this veneer that greeted the disgruntled Thorin Oakenshield, not-yet-King-Under-The-Mountain as he came to a stop several feet from Thranduil’s antlered throne and stared darkly at the Elvenking residing upon it.

“Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, grandson of Thror.” Thranduil began, his voice clear and sharp like a crisp breeze on a sunny winter’s morn, eyes calculating and analysing the dwarf even as his body was relaxed. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence gracing my halls?”

Thorin glared at Thranduil who stared dispassionately at the dwarf, unblinking and intense, and after a few long, tense moments, Thorin answered the Elvenking’s query; his voice deep and rough with restrained anger as he sought to attempt the politically correct thing to do. Namely, to not anger Thranduil though Lee knew full-well it was one of the many things Thorin desired greatly – quite possibly it was in his top ten wishes, next to regaining Erebor.

“My companions and I are travelling to the Iron Hills to meet with family there. We found ourselves beset by orcs and so sought to lose them in the forest; we were successful but lost ourselves in the process.” Thorin explained, firm and unyielding in his explanation that he was unaware Thranduil knew to be false; courtesy of Lee’s... involvement.

“Is that so?” Thranduil spoke, voice full of false surprise that had Lee cringing internally – this was not going to end well for all involved. Himself included. “Then why is it I have been informed you and your companions seek to reclaim Erebor from the drake that has made the Lonely Mountain its home?”

Lee could see the panic in Thorin’s eyes, as well as the anger, and winced when he looked over at the Elvenking to see Thranduil staring at him, directing Thorin’s gaze onto him even though he was mostly obscured by the shadows he stood within.

“I know not why you have been told this Elvenking but it is untrue.” Thorin managed to grit out, eyes forcibly returning to Thranduil’s form, though Lee could still feel the fury and panic that had been aimed at him alongside the blatant loathing Thorin held for him, though the dwarf had yet to even see his face or hear him speak! “As I have already stated, my companions and I travel to the Iron Hills on personal business. I apologise that we have trespassed in your woods O’ Elvenking but we had little choice.”

“Why should I believe you Thorin Oakenshield, of the Line of Durin? Why should I trust your word when I could not trust your grandfather’s?” Thranduil threw at the dwarf, almost casually, though the sharpness of his gaze belittled the causal air the words were spoken in. Thranduil wished for a response, wished for the dwarf to grow angered so he could demand whatever it was he wished from him. And that was something Lee couldn’t allow. Consequences be damned.

“One should not be judged on the actions of their forefathers but rather upon their own.” Lee murmured, loud enough for Thranduil and Thorin to hear without having to raise his voice. He avoided looking at the Elvenking for a long moment, choosing instead to stare at Thorin who was staring at his shadow-obscured form warily. When he finally managed to look at Thranduil, Lee found himself frozen to the spot, unable to flee from the sheer intensity of the stare Thranduil trapped him within. Clearing his throat Lee managed to croak out, voice uncharacteristically strained. “We are not our parents and their mistakes are not our own, only the lessons that can be learnt from them.”

Thranduil didn’t speak, nor did anyone else, though Legolas – who had been stood silently beside his father’s throne – began to move towards him only to be brought up short by Tauriel gripping his arm. He stared at her in silent admonishment for her action but the stare she returned and the words she mouthed silently to him had him standing back.

“Trust can be earned, but there has to be give on both sides otherwise it’s not really trust; it’s exploitation. Both of you know this, through personal experience.” Lee continued, trying desperately not to fidget even though he wanted to do nothing more than take back the words he’d already spoken and disappear beneath a rock. Instead he found himself unable to stop speaking, “That dragon isn’t going to go away, he isn’t going to play nice and he certainly isn’t going to leave anything alive within a hundred miles of Erebor if he gets woken up. But he’s also going to wake up, it might be now, it might be in ten or even a hundred years, but he’s still going to wake up. You don’t know what your forces will be later, the future isn’t certain so you can’t plan for all possible outcomes. You act in the present in a bid to secure a favourable future for yourself and those you love and protect. Evil is spreading, you can all feel it, and it’s getting stronger every day without fail. One day, one day soon, it’s going to reach a point where you won’t be able to fight against it because you have been so reluctant to act and live in the now you forgot all about the impact the present has on the future.”

Lee stepped forward, leaving behind the shadows as he experienced a wave of determination and power at the fact that he was speaking with absolute honesty and certainty on matters that would shape the future of Middle-Earth for decades to come. His head was held high, eyes burning with passion and determination, shoulders set and he stood fully, unflinching at the stares of the elves and dwarf around him.

Lee’s height made him noticeable; his voice made him imposing; but his passion made him undeniable. It was a charm that Thranduil possessed though he rarely made use of it nowadays, too scarred by the past to be as full of emotion without negative side-effects. Thranduil accepted that every word spoken by the mortal man had been marinated in the elixir of truth and that he had long-since preferred to denial the reality of the world beyond his borders because he knew all too well the evil that Lee spoke of.

“Who are you to speak of such things, son of man?” Thorin bit out, irritation at Lee’s presence driving from him the vestige of calm he had possessed when dealing with the Elvenking. He wished to understand what this short-lived son of men could possibly understand about things he looked too young to comprehend.

“Someone who knows why you travel to Erebor, why you thought you saw the Elvenking and his army atop the hill the day Smaug came when they were not really there. I’m the person who knows a lot about what can happen if you don’t let go of your anger and rage because anger does nothing but destroy all that is pure. If you are lost in anger and a need for revenge then it is easy to become lost in the desire for a coveted treasure that is the curse of your family.” Lee responded quickly, attempting to be as vague as possible while still giving Thorin hints that, yes, Lee really did have a right to talk about this because he had insider information unlike Thorin and Thranduil.

“My people and I did not leave the forest until nearly a week after Smaug’s coming.” Thranduil butted in, words smooth and calm. “By which time you and your people were too far from my borders to offer aid; hence why only Laketown and the survivors of Dale were given aid.”

“I find it difficult to believe O’ Elvenking that you would have offered aid to my people had you left your safe wood the day Smaug came!” Thorin spat, anger and grief and rage colouring his words and twisting his face. His eyes shone with malice and undisguised hatred as he glared at the Elvenking to stood suddenly. “You know nothing of dragon fire!”

Moving nearly too quickly to track Thranduil crossed the small distance between his throne and Thorin and stood staring down at the dwarf with anger shining in his own eyes. “Do not speak of dragon fire to me!” Thranduil all but hissed as he leant down until he was on eye-level with Thorin, face taught and pale, eyes wide and full of fury and grief. Mirror images of Thorin’s own. “I too know of the fire of the serpents of the north!”

As he spoke, Thranduil’s became distorted, a myriad of scars and burnt flesh revealing itself before Thorin’s very eyes, drawing a muted gasp from the dwarf. Lee let out a small hiss as he experienced a sudden burning sensation along his left cheek. But as soon as he noticed it, the sensation ended and he was left confused and slightly freaked out.

“It was why it couldn’t have been the Elvenking and his army that you saw atop the hill that day Thorin.” Lee explained softly, eyes locking with Thorin’s own, refusing to let the dwarf look away until he understood this basic truth. “He sensed Smaug’s presence the moment he attacked Erebor and was struck by, what you would call a magical backlash, that Smaug’s presence caused the Elvenking.” Lee frowned slightly, finding it difficult to explain as fully as he’d prefer, wincing when he realised Thranduil was glaring at him.

“If... if it was not the Elvenking and his kin that I saw atop the hill the day of Smaug’s desolation, son of man, then what did I, and my kin, witness?” Thorin asked slowly, words heavy with wariness, but they took a weight from Lee’s shoulders – at least the dwarf, whilst not accepting the truth of events, was actually considering them.

“A shadow.” Thranduil answered suddenly, he had moved away from Thorin while Lee spoke, putting distance between himself and the dwarf until he was seated again in his throne, face once more unmarred. At his words, all in the throne room looked at him – Tauriel, Legolas, Thorin and Lee.

“What you and your people saw Thorin Oakenshield was a shadow, a rendering of myself and my folk borne from dark, twisted magic that has its roots in evil and evil alone.” Thranduil explained; voice intense and full of anger at the indignity his people had suffered. To have been used as a mere prop for evil was an insult that he could not allow to go unchallenged, not now that he knew the circumstances. “It is an affront to all elves that such evil exists and it is an even greater one to my kin in this forest for we have been the unwitting accomplices of it and the machinations of the Necromancer.”


	4. Stratagem and Ruminations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee, Thorin and Thranduil discuss stuff. Legolas is a sneak. Lee is tired. The other dwarves and poor Bilbo have no idea what's going on but they're just thankful they're not being attacked by giant Spiders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It's been so long since I've updated this (please forgive me). I've suddenly been hit with inspiration again after like months! Hopefully it'll last and this will actually get somewhere. God I hope so.

They spoke for hours of the disagreements between their races, with Lee presiding as the unofficial peace keeper between the two prideful Kings. They spoke of the theft of jewels and weapons, of land and lives. They spoke of offences and insults, insinuations and plots that their peoples had conspired. They shouted threats and muttered curses, challenged each other and insulted one another.

But in the end they came to an agreement.

“I can accept, on the sworn oath of yourself and the son of man beside you, that the Elves of Mirkwood did not knowingly deny my people aid.” Thorin bit out, words still forced and reluctantly torn from him, but honest nonetheless. It had taken many an hour for Lee to convince the stubborn Dwarven-King that Thranduil truly had not stood atop the crest of the hill before Erebor and turned away from Thorin’s people and their plight.

“I too can accept that you have travelled here with no ill will towards my people and that all you have said is true.” Thranduil inclined his head, calmer and more controlled – though still tense from the fact that he’d had this conversation to begin with – now that his instinctive hatred of dwarves had been tempered with reason and explanations.

Lee felt the urge to collapse where he stood, exhausted both physically and mentally from the sheer effort it had taken for the two Kings to stop insulting each other long enough to continue peacefully discussing what to do with the dragon under the mountain.

_“Smaug needs to die.” Lee said firmly, looking at both elf and dwarf with an intense stare. “If he doesn’t he’s going to wake up eventually and cause absolute chaos for both of you, and probably the rest of Middle-Earth too before anyone can even begin to try and take him down.”_

_“You do not know that.” Thranduil stated just as firmly back while Thorin nodded in agreement (he was honestly trying not to think about the fact that he was agreeing with someone he had hated with a fierce passion only a few hours ago). “Smaug may sleep for years to come. Or he may leave when his treasure is taken from him.”_

_Lee resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the Elven-King. “You don’t seriously believe that for a second. You know what dragons do when they’re woken up. They don’t abandon their treasures for anything other than a bigger treasure.” Lee pointed out, staring intently at the Elven-King._

_“I don’t think there’s any treasure bigger than that of Erebor in all of Middle-Earth.” Thorin said pointedly staring at Lee. “Smaug isn’t going to leave my home any time soon.”_

_“You don’t think there’s any treasure bigger than Erebor’s but you don’t know for sure.” Lee glared at Thorin. “Would you really risk waking Smaug up only for him to fly off and destroy another people?”_

_Silence fell at his words as Thorin glared back heatedly at Lee who suddenly realised that though Thorin might be short he was a hell of a lot more skilled than Lee, stronger than Lee and actually older than him. Lee was basically a child telling off adults for something said adults didn’t think was a problem._

_“You have a point Lairion.” Thranduil finally broke the silence, his words quiet and resolute. “I truly have no wish for any to suffer the ire of a dragon, if I had been able to prevent it I would even have sought to deny Smaug entry to Erebor.”_

_Thorin blinked suddenly, staring at Thranduil in surprise. Surely he could no mean what he said? This was an elf who had hated his kin for many years. But Thorin could see no lie in Thranduil’s face, could sense no deception from him, even though his natural distrust of elves kept him from believing the Elven-King outright._

_“Then what do we do?” Thorin asked, pointedly ignoring how both Lee and Thranduil looked at him in surprise. He can be diplomatic when he wants to be, Balin’s opinion be damned! “We cannot simply waltz up to Erebor, inform that dragon we’re here to kill him and take back my home and expect things to be okay.”_

_“Why not?” Lee responded back, amused at how both Thorin and Thranduil stared at him like he’d gone mad. He was seriously considering the possibility that he had indeed gone off the deep-end. “Perhaps not quite as simple as that. We’d need to arrange things, organise a meeting with a representative of Lake Town – preferably someone who isn’t obsessed with money or power but someone who has influence with the common people. It might be an idea to contact the other Elven-lords and also the Dwarf-lords.” Both Thranduil and Thorin scowled at this prospect. “It would be the sensible thing to do. Who knows what might happen if you manage to kill Smaug. We might have so many injured that we need the extra help. Also if the Dwarvish-Lords know of what you’re doing Thorin, and that you’re working with elves to do it, they may well come here a bit quicker hoping to get in your good graces.” Eyes twinkling, Lee smiled inside as Thorin snorted and Thranduil raised an eyebrow in amusement. He’d managed to get them to agree and he knew it. Smaug was going to die and hopefully no one else would die._

“What of Mithrandir?” Thranduil asked, looking at the two beings opposite him; one short and proud, the other tall and contrite. It was still strange for him to see Lee stood opposite him when the mortal looked so like him. Even his hair had begun to grow in the time he had been in Thranduil’s kingdom. He was not certain but something about the mortal was unusual and fascinating to him, he just didn’t know what.

“The last I saw of the wizard he was travelling South on his own journey. I do not know where.” Thorin admitted, shrugging a shoulder while Lee shifted awkwardly beside him.

“He’s gone to Dol Guldur.” Lee stated, drawing a sharp intake of breath from Thranduil who pierced him with an intense stare.

“You are certain?” Thranduil demanded. At Lee’s nod he took a deep breath and called for a guard.

Thorin and Lee said nothing but watched as a guard from outside the room they had retired to – sans Legolas and Tauriel who Thranduil had ordered to oversee the release of Thorin’s company from the dungeons and their instalment in rooms appropriate to their status as ‘guests’ – hurried in and bowed before the Elven-King.

Speaking sharply in Elvish neither Lee nor Thorin knew precisely what Thranduil ordered but they both could guess. He was ordering for a scout or something of the sort to travel to Dol Guldur to ascertain if Gandalf had truly travelled to the accursed place.

When the guard bowed again and left the room at a swift pace, Thranduil turned to look at both Lee and Thorin for a moment before explaining. “I have ordered a dozen of my people to travel to Dol Guldur to learn what has happened to Mithrandir, as well as messengers dispatched to Lake Town, Rivendell and Loth-Lorien. I would suggest you send word to your people also Lord Thorin.”

Without a further word Thranduil turned and swept out of the room leaving Lee and Thorin stood awkwardly at the table they had gathered around earlier to discuss tactics.

“Bye then.” Lee muttered sarcastically as he waved an arm in the direction of the door Thranduil had left through. Thorin snorted at Lee’s words before giving him a nod and leaving the room also.

Lee, alone at last, promptly collapsed into the nearest chair, limbs sprawled haphazardly as he closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh. He really was exhausted and wished only to sleep for a week, but he knew he couldn’t. But a few moments of rest wouldn’t hurt. Much.

* * *

 In the depths of the forest the sound of skittering can be heard, above the gentle rustle of the leaves still clinging on the trees as Summer ends and Autumn begins. In the clearing where Lee had first entered the land of Middle-Earth the bushes rattle and shake violently as a disgusting looking creature forces its way through them.

Standing in the centre of the clearing, ignoring the light of the stars shining down on it reproachfully, the creature sniffs the air, snorting at the intensity of the smells. There is death, anger, hatred, fear... But there is something else also. The scent of man. The scent of elves. And faintly it can smell the scent of dwarves.

The creature turns and kicks the head of one of its kin aside, smirking as it rolls away into the underbrush. It must return to its master and inform him of the scents that have arisen in the forest. Perhaps it may enjoy the taste of elf-flesh once again.

* * *

Lee twitched violently and woke up with a startled gasp. Looking around himself fervently he realised that he was still in the room that Thranduil and Thorin had left hours ago, slumped still in the chair he had apparently fallen asleep in. Groaning in frustration with himself, Lee dragged himself up and scrubbed his face with his hand, hoping to wake himself up fully. Something had woken him. He didn’t know what precisely but it was nagging away at him.

Yawning and stretching out his arms above his head Lee blinked the sleep out of his eyes, his mind still sluggishly attempting to identify what was bothering him. Leaving the room he noticed how there were no guards at the door any longer. Apparently Thranduil believed he wasn’t going to try and escape – not that he could. He honestly had no idea how he could get out of the place – the curse of being tall meant the route that the dwarves could use in the wine cellar was completely out to him.

“Shit.” Lee exclaimed as he suddenly realised what it was had been nagging him. “The orcs!” Turning on his heel Lee rushed down the corridors of Thranduil’s stronghold, thankful that it he came across no one who would look at him like he was crazed – or attack him – before he got to the entrance to the throne room. Praying that Thranduil was inside and hadn’t retired or whatever, Lee strode past the guards who stood impassively at the entrance – evidently Thranduil hadn’t ordered them to stop him from entering, or they thought he was Thranduil he thought to himself.

“Thranduil?” Lee said, his voice echoing around the huge cavern. The throne was empty and Lee cursed himself. Of course Thranduil wasn’t going to still be in the throne room at this hour. Why would he be? He was a King but Kings don’t live on their thrones!

“Yes Lairion?” Thranduil’s voice whispered into Lee’s ear causing him to jump in surprise and take an instinctive step back. Right into a hard, warm chest.

“Uh-“ Lee froze, his back pressed against Thranduil’s. Honestly! Why does this happen to him! He just wants to help not get jumped by someone who looks enough like him to freak him the fuck out! “Orcs.” He whispered as he felt Thranduil’s hot breath on his ear.

Thankfully he had said something that caught Thranduil’s attention and in a moment the Elven-King has spun him around and was staring at him with a fiercely intense stare. “What?”

“There’s going to be an attack by orcs. They’re after Thorin but I was attacked by one. They can track smell can’t they?” Lee babbled as he stared at Thranduil who cursed suddenly and released his grip.

Standing still and breathing deeply for a long moment, Lee thanked all the things in the universe that he’d remembered in time to pre-empt the orc attack. Just as he began to follow Thranduil out of the throne room he saw Thorin stood by the doors speaking to Thranduil. By the time he reached Thranduil’s side he realised that Thorin too had recalled the orcs chasing his company and was informing Thranduil.

“Inform the guards. Be ready.” Thranduil ordered the guard closest to him who nodded his acquiescence and set off at a brisk pace down the halls. “Inform all those who reside outside to retreat inside immediately.” Thranduil stated to the other guard who immediately disappeared to fulfil his King’s orders.

Looking at Lee and Thorin for a long moment Thranduil seemingly made a decision. “Lord Thorin, you and your kin may aid in defending my people as it is you who these orcs seek.” Thorin bristled slightly but nodded in agreement – killing the orcs was more important than his pride. “Lairion, you will remain here. I do not wish to risk you coming to harm.”

Without allowing Lee a moment to even consider a response to Thranduil’s order the elf briskly walked away, Thorin giving Lee a long, inscrutable look before setting off to inform his company of the impending attack.

* * *

Well prepared as they were the orcs didn’t stand a chance when they assaulted the river guard just as the sun began to set the day after Lee and Thorin had warned Thranduil of their assault. Bolg, having not expected to meet resistance in the form of over two dozen elvish warriors as well as the Elvenking attempted to flee. However, his escape was thwarted by the combined efforts of Tauriel, Kili, Fili and Legolas working together in a surprisingly effective team.

Thranduil and Thorin took on the bulk force of the orcs attacking, as did the rest of Thorin’s company save Bilbo who had been ordered to remain with Lee in the stronghold – something neither of them had appreciated but didn’t argue with.

When the last orc fell, to a Dwarven blade incidentally, Thranduil and Thorin were equally exhausted and covered in various amounts of orc blood. Their blades were equally soaked in the substance and without further complaint they returned to Thranduil’s stronghold with little comment. It seemed that the feud between the two had finally burnt itself out and Thorin’s company, reluctant as they were to forgive and forget what they still saw as a betrayal – though they had listened to Thorin’s explanation of Thranduil’s actions the day Erebor was taken from them – could not deny the fact that Thorin truly believed the Elvenking’s words, for if he did not he would not have fought so ferociously when side-by-side with the elf. Dwalin still doubted the truth of Thranduil’s words but he himself could not deny that Thorin was surprisingly a better judge of character than he and possessed the skills necessary for negotiation – Balin had been as surprised at this revelation as Dwalin himself had been, much to Thorin’s irritation.

“I do believe this calls for a feast.” Thranduil declared when they reached the entrance of the stronghold, glancing down at Thorin who walked beside him. “Do not worry yourself Thorin, my people have no issue with meat unlike our kin in Rivendell.” He added as he saw Thorin’s mouth twist into a grimace. He resisted the urge to laugh in amusement; he too was reluctant to visit Rivendell for Elrond and his people were ever so reluctant to devour the meat of animals. Thranduil and his people had no such issues – they knew that so long as they respected the animals and did not hunt them in excess, the they were simply fulfilling a role in life. All life was sacred to the elves, no matter where they lived, but the elves of Mirkwood did not deny the fact that they had evolved to require meat in their diets – much as men and Dwarves, and even Hobbits, did.

“Aye. I don’t think any of my kin would deny themselves such a thing.” Thorin agreed as he stared straight ahead, a smile tugging at his lips regardless. He still did not truly trust Thranduil – for it is difficult to free oneself from many years of distrust and suspicious – but he could not deny that the Elvenking was amusing at times. And that he was also ferocious in battle and would defend any that stood beside him – even a dwarf. Thorin himself had done the same, almost having his head removed in order to deflect a blow meant to strike at Thranduil while his back was turned, and the Elvenking had returned the favour.

Perhaps the son of man, the one Thranduil called Lairion was right. Elves and dwarves were powerful when separate but working in tandem they seemed all but unstoppable. Shaking his head to clear it of such pensive thoughts Thorin turned to look at his company who were following behind, amongst Thranduil’s people. Though they looked out of place among the tall elves, Thorin could not help but feel like it was right that they walked beside them. A lingering sense that had Thorin and his kin not... reconciled with Thranduil and his people, made Thorin believe that things would have turned out very differently than they had at the river gate.

* * *

The feast lasted well into the hours of the next morning, so long in fact that Lee left it to sleep and returned to it in the morning as it was still going on. He found himself thoroughly amused by the sight of dwarves and elves dancing and singing in unison about, if he listened properly, was some sort of incredibly strong alcoholic substance that could put down a dragon for life apparently. It was hilarious and for a long moment Lee felt himself missing his friends deeply. He still didn’t understand how he had come to be trapped in Middle-Earth, but he knew it was real and it was likely he wasn’t going to see his friends and family ever again.

It made him want to hide away from everyone and weep, to sob and lament over the fact that everything he knew was gone. But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. He would grieve the loss of his friends and family, of his entire way of life later, when he had time. Right now he had plans. He had dwarves to save and history to alter.

Leaving the feasting hall full of joy and alcohol-induced madness, Lee took the opportunity to sneak down to the training grounds. Thankfully, his wanderings in the stronghold and the immediate land around it wasn’t forbidden and he’d figured out his way around it quite quickly. He also knew that, with almost the entirety of Thranduil’s people in the feasting hall or lying in their beds with hangovers – who knew elves could get hangovers – that the training grounds would be essentially empty.

Lee wasn’t what he’d consider a vain person, not really, but he’d felt a certain sting to his pride when Thranduil had ordered him to remain in the stronghold while he and the dwarves went off to fight orcs. Of course, Lee couldn’t exactly argue with him, Lee knew absolutely nothing of war and couldn’t, for the life of him even begin to pretend that he did. But still, he could use swords – perhaps not to the skill level expected in Middle-Earth but he wasn’t so inept with them that he’d stab himself in the foot.

Not again at least.

And so he decided to practice, with real Elven-blades – not the ones the props department made. Real, sharp, pointy swords. A part of him felt thrilled at the prospect, another part afraid. He hadn’t killed anyone before – and he wished that he never would – but he also knew that in Middle-Earth he couldn’t sit on the sidelines and hope for the best. He had to be in the thick of it – and that meant learning how to fight and to kill.

Picking up a set of double blades, well-worn and slightly dulled – they were training blades afterall – Lee tested the weight of them and found them to be pretty similar to the blades he’d used in practice back in what he dubbed the ‘real’ world. Giving them an experimental spin in his hands, fingers moving deftly to grip the pommels with ease, he struck out at an invisible target; right slash then left.

He stepped forward quickly and executed a spin, slashing at the air with his blades as he did so. The moves he’d practiced in training coming back to him with ease and he began to make his way around the training area, stepping lightly and quickly, blades slashing and spinning about him as he struck at invisible enemies.

So focused was he on practicing, Lee failed to notice that he was being watched by a pair of sharp blue eyes that were staring at him with intense suspicion and curiosity.

Legolas remained crouched in the tree above the training ground, watching the mortal move with a speed and skill that Legolas had never observed in any mortal before. He did not trust the mortal, did not believe he was safe, but he could not help but admire the skill that Lee possessed – it was similar enough to Legolas’ father in terms of the moves and the propensity for two blades rather than one that Legolas could not help but notice slip ups and differences between the two styles.

He did not understand what this mortal was doing here, in his home, or why he looked so similar to his father, but Legolas knew one thing. He did not trust him to be alone with his father. 


	5. Emotional Upheaval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He froze, unable to look away from those eyes, those deep, hungry, inquisitive eyes. It felt like his lungs were being pierced, his ribs collapsing under the weight of that stare and filling his lungs with blood making breathing impossible. Every muscles in his body felt like it had been tasered, unable and unwilling to respond to his desire to move, to look away, to do something!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! I'm back with a chapter for you all! I am so sorry it's taken me this long! I've had absolutely no inspiration for this fic and it's been driving me mad!! Here's a lovely long dose of Lee/Thranduil feels, some plot and a bit of introspection. And humour. Can't forget the humour!

Returning to his room Lee came across one or two elves – each looking distinctly worse for wear from the merriment of the feast – who gave him respectful nods that he returned. Lee was mildly confused as to why they would show him respect as he was mortal but he was too tired to truly ponder it. He’d been out in the training fields for hours, twisting and turning, cutting and slashing at invisible enemies. The only reason he’d stopped was because he realised that the training fields always filled up around midday and he’d seriously doubted a feast would change that.

Peeling off the sweat-soaked tunic he was wearing Lee contemplated just crawling into his bed and sleeping for a week but the prospect of a bath was too good to ignore. He slipped on a thin over-robe and walked into the bathroom attached to his room – as a guest of the King he’d been quartered in one of the more furnished rooms in the kingdom and so didn’t have to bathe in the communal wash room.

Though it made him a bit uncomfortable to do so, Lee realised the necessity of servants in Middle-Earth – nothing was electronic and everything ran on the shoulders of people. So it was with a mild reluctance that Lee pulled the thin chain that he knew, somehow, was connected to the nearby servants’ quarters, and waited for a servant to arrive.

“My Lord?” The servant enquired as she entered the bathroom from Lee’s room. She looked young but Lee knew she was still older than him by at least a hundred years, but he didn’t let that phase me. Much.

“Can you prepare a hot bath for me please?” Lee asked politely, giving the servant a smile as she nodded and avoided his gaze.

“Of course my Lord.” She replied, moving to pick up the large bucket in the corner of the room. “It will take around half an hour to prepare my Lord.”

“Thank you.” Lee responded, leaving the bathroom behind the servant. “May I also have a small meal delivered to me while I wait?”

“Of course my Lord.” She nodded again and Lee gave her a smile, noticing how her eyes widened slightly as she caught his gaze. “I will return shortly.”

Deciding not to speak anymore, realising that she was uncomfortable with him Lee nodded, and moved over to the window, staring out the window at the small inner-courtyard of the palace. He listened as the servant left the room and sighed quietly. It made him uncomfortable to order someone around since he was, naturally, a very independent and self-sufficient person. But, Lee recognised the reality of the situation. He was a guest of the Elven King and so was expected to behave as a guest should. Translation: expect servants to do everything for him and not try it himself because that would be rude and an insult to the servants themselves.

The servants in Thranduil’s palace weren’t slaves; they were paid and cared for, had room and board and they simply cared for those who they were assigned to. It was normal, it was typical, it was still strange for Lee. But he tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the fact that he didn’t know how to do the things that the servants did – how was he meant to get hot water for a bath when he didn’t even know where the water came from! It was a pointless exercise so Lee chose to do what was generally expected of him: act like a Lord.

That made him frown for a moment. Why did the servant call him ‘lord’? Was it because he was in one of the quarters usually reserved for nobles? Did the servants and people of Mirkwood assume he was a lord? No, he doubted that very much. So why? Perhaps because Thranduil listened to him and spoke to him like he was more of an equal than a subject? Maybe.

Lee didn’t really know and he doubted he would so he decided to chalk it up to the sensibilities of elves and leave it at that. It was certainly easier than continuing to ponder the issue.

A knock on his door drew his attention and he called out for whoever it was to enter – figuring it was the servant bringing him some food.

It wasn’t.

“You look tired Lairion.” Thranduil murmured softly as he opened the door and entered the room. “I do not think it was the feast that has tired you though.”

Lee tensed slightly, feeling mildly vulnerable in the room as Thranduil causally crossed to stand beside him at the window. Being in a room alone with Thranduil wasn’t exactly something Lee enjoyed – especially when said room included a bed. ‘Bad thoughts!’ Lee blinked sharply, ignoring Thranduil stood beside him, equal to him in height and mass, but so much stronger and older and damaged.

“It was a long feast.” Lee replied, trying to avoid the issue, fervently wishing for the servant with his food to knock so he could use it as a distraction. “I did not expect it to last for over a day.”

Thranduil’s lips quirked into a slight smile, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Elves are well-known for our merriment and dwarves even more so. When together it seems we go to extremes.”

‘Talk about understatement.’ Lee thought as he remembered the dancing elves and dwarves on the tables, singing and shouting about the strangest and most random things. He also remembered seeing a dwarf, who he thought might have been Bofur, climbing one of the pillars trying to reach the ceiling... which was 50 foot high.

“However, I am aware that men are not so reluctant to engage in festivities yet you were.” Thranduil continued, pointedly turning to look at Lee who reluctantly turned his gaze to the Elven King. “I assumed it was tiredness when you retired in the early hours yet you returned only briefly later and no one had come across you for several hours.”

Lee sighed inside; somewhat nervous at being in the room with Thranduil alone when he knew the Elven King was both concerned and suspicious of his actions. A guest in Thranduil’s kingdom who disappeared for several hours... yeah he had every right to be suspicious but it didn’t really make Lee feel better. If anything he felt like some particularly ruthless predators next lunch.

Deciding that it would be better to simply speak the truth and hope Thranduil believed him, Lee opened his mouth to reply but someone knocking on his door stopped him.

“Enter.” Thranduil called, ignoring how Lee stared at him in surprise. The Elven King already knew a servant was bringing food, he had ordered that they bring a second meal for him as he was planning on interrogating Lee.

Two servants entered the room, neither looking at the two as they quickly laid out a simple meal of various slices of cold meat, vegetables and bread rolls, along with a decanter of what Lee figured was Thranduil’s personal wine. They turned and left the room at a casual flick of Thranduil’s hand and they were alone again.

Thranduil stared into Lee’s eyes, his pale blue eyes icy and sharp, filled with intelligence and knowledge. Lee blinked and looked away at the table with food on.

“I’m hungry.” Lee croaked out, clearing his throat and continuing. “I’ve haven’t eaten all day.”

Thranduil quirked a brow at that before turning away from Lee and sitting down at the head of the table. “Then eat. It would not do well if you were to faint Lairion.”

They ate silently, no commentary or discussion between them and Lee was glad for it even though the silence was awkward. It was not necessarily tense but still, Lee felt like he should be speaking with Thranduil, talking about Erebor and Dol Guldur and Gandalf. Instead he was eating silently and focusing intently on his plate in order to avoid meeting Thranduil’s searching eyes.

Lee jumped slightly as someone knocked on his door again and he called out before Thranduil could. “Come in.”

The servants from before entered the room, carrying the large bucket between them and immediately moved to the bathroom at a nod from Lee. He stood and turned to Thranduil who had also rose.

“I shall leave you to bathe Lairion but I wish for you to accompany me to the training fields in the evening.” Thranduil ordered, watching as Lee started violently and looked at him in shock. “I believe it wise for you to know how to hold a blade.”

“Of course your majesty.” Lee managed to say. ‘Does he know? Oh god he knows doesn’t he? Oh god!’ He tried to ignore his panicked thoughts as he watched Thranduil leave his rooms, the servants following silently – evidently done with their task of preparing his bath – and leaving him alone in his room.

“I should have just gone to sleep.” He muttered derisively as he dragged himself from his seat and into the bathroom. “Less stressful.”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Lee cautioned, standing awkwardly opposite Thranduil in the middle of the deserted training fields. Obviously Thranduil had decided that Lee’s obvious inability to fight wasn’t something to be witnessed by the rest of his people and had thought to spare him the embarrassment.

‘Or he just wants an excuse to lay me flat on my back with no one around to interfere.’ Lee thought darkly, cursing himself for even thinking such a thing. ‘No! Bad thoughts! Stop that!’

“On the contrary Lairion, it is a most wonderful idea for you to learn the art of sword-fighting.” Thranduil counted calmly, his posture entirely relaxed and sure. He hadn’t yet drawn his dual blades but he was intimidating none-the-less. Intimidating and very handsome.

‘Stop it! I’m basically calling my own face handsome! Narcissistic much!’ Lee scolded, rolling his shoulders in their sockets to try and work out some of the tension that had built across his back. He gripped the pommel of the blade he was holding - not a training blade but a real, full-fledged, pointy sword designed to take off heads and arms. ‘I’m going to die.’

“Of course you do, you’re going to flatten me.” Lee muttered, cringing slightly when Thranduil raised an elegant eyebrow at him. “Right, shutting up now.”

Slowly, almost seductively, Thranduil drew his dual blades, the edges gleaming in the ambient lights around the edge of the training fields. Though his face revealed nothing, the muscles still and solid, Lee knew that Thranduil was amused and obviously enjoying torturing him.

‘Asshole.’ Lee cursed as he gripped his blade tighter for a second before instinctively loosening his grip. He remembered how he’d been lambasted for holding the handle too tightly during his training and it had been drilled into him to get a firm, but flexible grip on his blade. It was easier to move and handle the blade if his grip wasn’t too tight.

He brought the blade up, the silver edge sparkling in the darkness and he watched Thranduil’s form avidly. Lee knew he was no match for the Elvenking but he’d be damned if he went down easy. If he could, he’d get at least one hit before he died.

Well… that was the plan anyway.

The silver gleam of Thranduil’s blades blindsided Lee for a single moment and before he could even process it, Thranduil was moving. Covering the ground between them in mere seconds and Lee was only just able to throw himself backwards, hands gripping his blade as it clanged and vibrated in his grip. One of Thranduil’s blades had struck it, parrying the blade to the side and leaving Lee exposed to the second blade.

It took all of Lee’s awareness and instincts, to turn his body to the side, avoiding the blade and he stepped back, pulling his blade with him. The screeching of blades sliding against each other echoed across the fields and mixed with Lee’s own loud breathing.

Dancing away from him on feet made of wind, Thranduil watched silently as Lee blinked and planted his feet firmly on the ground again, determined to hold his ground this time and not be blindsided.

It was admirable, Thranduil thought, that Lairion was determined to keep his place. Admirable, but ultimately foolish.

Again he came at Lee, blades swinging, one to his right, the other straight for his blade, and Lee was struck with the sudden realisation of how unfair this was. Two blades versus one. Two elven-made blades capable of withstanding blows from near enough all single-blade weapons save axes and hammers.

And Lee had a single sword that wasn’t even elven-made.

He’d never trained with a single sword like this before. Not one that wasn’t light and had a curved blade. The prop blades were all light, made of alloys and thin steel. The weapons he’d trained with were lighter than this single blade and he wasn’t used to it.

‘I’m gonna get my ass kicked.’ Lee thought forlornly as Thranduil’s second blade slammed into his blade, matching its twin on the other side of the blade. He couldn’t really do much except try and step back and pull his blade with him but even as he did so, Thranduil’s blades turned and twisted, sliding along the blade of his sword and his blade was suddenly ripped from his grip leaving him defenceless.

He watched the sword arcing in the air, blade glittering and sparkling silver and gold as it fell, landing with a heavy thump into the sandy ground.

A sharp point rested on his neck and he instinctively leaned his head back, tilting his chin up away from the blade gleaming beneath his chin. He followed the blade to the pale hand that held it, the wrist that kept it so steady and still. Up the arm and along the neck to the face of Thranduil, staring at him, pupils blown wide and ringed in a pale blue.

He froze, unable to look away from those eyes, those deep, hungry, inquisitive eyes. It felt like his lungs were being pierced, his ribs collapsing under the weight of that stare and filling his lungs with blood making breathing impossible. Every muscles in his body felt like it had been tasered, unable and unwilling to respond to his desire to move, to look away, to do something!

“Lairion…” Thranduil’s voice was low and soft, deep with emotion, like the soft burble of a stream that looked shallow but had hidden depths. It beckoned Lee closer, like a moth to a flame, lulled him into thinking it was safe to approach, to slip into the water and relax…

“I’m not good with single blades.” Lee croaked, his voice raspy and hoarse, like he’d been shouting for hours and hadn’t drank in days.

And the moment was broken, the black wells of emotion that were Thranduil’s eyes disappeared, the blue rings growing and Lee took a breath, ignoring the prickling of his lungs. He ignored the need, the want, to just close his eyes and surrender to the water, to drown in those hidden depths that none knew existed.

“Then perhaps you would fair better with two rather than one.” Thranduil stated, his gaze leaving Lee and travelling across the field to land on Lee’s blade, laying silently in the sand. “I do not believe we have any designed by men however.”

Swallowing convulsively, Lee turned away from Thranduil, moving to pick up the sword a few feet away. “I’d rather use elven blades if I’m honest. They’re-” He paused, feeling Thranduil’s gaze settle on his back.

Holding the blade in his hand, the tip pointed down, grip lose, Lee slowly turned back to look at Thranduil, blades still drawn, and he hesitated.

“They are what Lairion?” Thranduil questioned softly, his words gentle. His gaze was again locked with Lee’s own, those pale eyes studying him intently.

“Easier to use.” Lee finished lamely, trying not to feel disappointed when Thranduil broke their staring and slipped his blades back into their sheaths.

“Then let us find a pair for you to train with.” Thranduil said simply, no longer focused on Lee and Lee felt bereft of the attention, as though he were standing out in the cold alone, exposed to the elements with no respite and no protection.

It was an unsettling feeling.

He pushed it aside forcefully and followed after Thranduil in silence, eyes focused on everything other than the Elvenking though he was fiercely aware of where the elf was at all times. He could sense whenever Thranduil glanced at him, moved closer or further away, those eyes watching him as they walked silently through the Elvenking’s home.

Upon reaching the armoury, Lee realised that Thranduil was actually going to provide him with a pair of swords, perhaps similar to his own or like the daggers Legolas used, and it made his stomach tighten. His lungs grew tight and brittle, as though they had been dried out by burning heat and his throat was dry and parched. He felt like he couldn’t speak even if he’d wanted to.

Instead he followed the Elvenking into the armoury and watched in silence as the King of the Woodland Realm perused the weapons that were neatly organised in rows and packed in crates and cases.

There was something inside of him, some instinctive knowledge, that told Lee none of the weapons in the armoury would suit him. Oh they’d do in a pinch, like say in the face of certain death, but they weren’t… weren’t right for him.

‘The blades choose the warrior mister Pace.’ Lee thought in amusement. What was he? Harry Potter? God he was going insane.

“Hmm.” Thranduil’s speculative noise drew Lee’s attention from his thoughts and he glanced at the Elvenking, mildly anxious and curious as to what had drawn his attention.

“I believe these will suffice.” Thranduil stated, turning suddenly, gripping twin blades about the length of Lee’s entire arm, the scabbards worn but well cared for. He didn’t doubt for a second that the blades within were sharp enough to split a hair with. “Come, test them.”

“What? Here?” Lee spluttered, looking at Thranduil like the Elvenking had lost his marbles. ‘He probably already has.’ He thought darkly as the Elvenking stared back at him, clearly unimpressed.

“We can return to the training field if you’d prefer but I’d rather see how you handle these before we do as, if they do not suit you, choosing a different set will be much quicker if we remain here.” Thranduil explained, raising an eyebrow at Lee, hands holding out the blades expectantly.

Realising it would be easier to just do what Thranduil said, Lee reached out and took the blades, pulling them out of the scabbards Thranduil held on to.

A soft singing note echoed in the armoury as he drew the blades, their hard surfaces reflecting the light of the torches and sparkling like liquid gold. It was beautiful and mesmerising, the way the light danced along the edges of the blade and something in Lee relaxed, soothed by the shine of the blades.

The blades were light, equally balanced and comfortable in his grip and Lee’s entire body relaxed as he held them loosely, grasp firm but ready to yield when the moment came.

Thranduil watched in silence, taking in the way Lee’s body softened, like hard wax melting from the heat of a candle flame. It was fascinating and intriguing to observe. Lee’s shoulders relaxed, his spine was straight but not stiff, more fluid and his stance changed, feet moving almost automatically to accommodate the twin blades that he held like extensions of his own arms.

Thranduil had lived for centuries, had seen countless warriors and soldiers learn the art of swords and still… still Lee surprised him. The way he stood, his obvious ability to wield dual blades - elven dual blades - was impossible. For a mortal, Lee was quite surprising.

Thranduil wondered if perhaps Lairion possessed some elven heritage for, regardless of Lairion’s origins, his stance now, while holding two of his people’s weapons, was more elven than it was mortal.

 

* * *

 

“How precisely are we to kill the dragon?” Kill’s voice was loud in the silence of the room, full of curiosity and trepidation as he gazed at his uncle and the Elvenking who sat beside him at the head of the table.

It had been hours since they had entered the room that was to be, so to speak, their war room. Lee had lost count in fact, unable to focus on the passing time and mediate between Thranduil and Thorin - along with Balin, thank God for reasonable dwarves! - at the same time.

Silent looks were Kili’s response.

“Wait, you’re discussing how we’re going to get to the mountain and defeat Smaug but you don’t actually have a plan for how to kill him!” Kili exclaimed, shock, confusion and panic clear to see and hear.

“Not exactly no.” Thranduil stated, voice flat and straightforward. “As it is, we have been rather more focused on preparing for Laketown’s representative than the wyrm.”

“Why?” Kili asked, oblivious to the way Fili closed his eyes and let out a quiet groan. “Smaug is more important than Laketown.”

“And what of the people of Laketown?” Lee interjected quickly enough to prevent Thranduil from speaking, and Thorin too.

Kili looked at Lee with barely concealed irritation. “What of them? It’s our mountain Smaug is in.”

Lee could feel Thranduil tense at the young dwarf's words and ploughed on relentlessly, refusing to look at Thranduil for a moment in fear of what the Elvenking might say to the prince.

“But when Smaug is ousted from the mountain it will be to laketown he’ll go. A town filled with women and children, innocent people who will burn when Smaug unleashes his rage on them.” Lee pointed out, his words grave and sharp, hitting the prince like a brick and causing Kili to pale. “It’s not a matter of where Smaug is now or what he’s already done, it’s a matter of innocent lives that Smaug may end should we not plan this properly.”

“Aye, Kili.” Thorin rumbled, his words loud in the contemplative silence that fell after Lee’s words. “The people of Laketown may suffer if we retake our mountain and I have no desire to let another suffer the pain a dragon causes.”

“Indeed.” Thranduil agreed, his voice holding a decisive tone, easily telling the room’s occupants the matter was closed and was not to be brought up again.

A knock at the door interrupted whatever Thorin was about to say, having opened his mouth to speak to Thranduil.

“Enter.” Lee said automatically, flinching slightly when everyone in the room fixed him with a glare - Legolas’ the most intense while Thranduil’s was more half-hearted and amused. “Sorry.” He mumbled to Thranduil who simply raised an eyebrow in response.

The door opened and a messenger bowed at Thranduil before informing him. “Laketown’s representatives have arrived my Lord. They await your presence in the throne room.”

A swift nod dismissed the messenger and everyone in the room rose in unison. Thranduil glanced at Thorin briefly, receiving a nod from the Dwarven-King before looking at his son and Tauriel who inclined their heads simultaneously.

Lee stood beside Balin, the old dwarf silent beside him, while the others in the room moved to leave, voices quiet but still loud in the relative peaceful silence of the Woodland Realm. He wasn’t sure where he was meant to go, whether to join the rest of the company leaving or remain with Thranduil and Thorin.

His choice was made for him however when Thranduil fixed him with a deep, penetrating stare and he too inclined his head slightly, silently agreeing to join Thranduil in the throne room to meet Bard and the other representatives of Laketown.

 

* * *

 

The descendant of the King of Dale stood in grim silence in the middle of Thranduil’s throne room, his posture stiff and alert. Lee couldn’t help but look at Bard and think of Luke and how different the two obviously were. For started, Bard looked older, his hair flecked with grey and his eyes were darker, sharper and held far more anger and pain than Luke’s ever did.

Still, as disorientating as it was to see his friend’s face on a stranger, Lee didn’t react. Unlike with Legolas, Thorin or anyone else he’d met so far, Bard was just another in a line of surprisingly familiar strangers. So he handled the strange sensation of being considered a stranger by someone who looked like a friend, and focused on the task at hand.

Bard was blunt and direct, sharp and unyielding in his comments, and Lee couldn’t help but feel impressed by him. This was a man who lived a hard life and learned to be hard in order to survive.

“Why have you asked for my presence Elvenking? I am only a common man.” Bard asked, words directly aimed at Thranduil who sat regally on his throne. “And why do dwarves stand in your halls? I do not believe there is much love between your two people’s.”

“There isn’t.” Thranduil agreed, ignoring how Thorin glared at him. “Though things can change master Bard.”

“And what things have changed that would bring the Elvenking and a dwarven lord to be so amiable towards one another?” Bard challenged and Lee had to resist the urge to smile. “And what is a man doing within your halls also O’ Elvenking, when you have declared it a crime for mortal men to enter your kingdom?”

Lee tensed in surprise at how brazen Bard was actually being. He had expected bluntness and direct challenges but not something so… reactionary. Whatever Bard had been through had obviously affected him in ways that Luke hadn’t believed when he’d portrayed his character.

‘Then again it’s not like Thranduil’s exactly how you expected him to be.’ Lee thought ruefully.

“Lairion is a guest of my halls, master Bard and I would trust you know well enough to speak more respectfully to a King.” Thranduil all but hissed at the man stood before him, his eyes sharp and cold. Lee shifted uncomfortably, his arm accidentally brushing against Thranduil’s own that was draped along the arm of his throne.

Bard’s eyes sharpened, catching the movement and Lee couldn’t help but freeze in panic. He forced himself to stare at Bard, refusing to flinch as the man’s gaze locked with his own and engaged in a silent battle of wills.

“As for Lord Thorin, he is a guest in my kingdom also, though for different reasons.” Thranduil continued and Bard looked away from Lee, losing their silent battle, and fixed his gaze on the Elvenking again. “We are currently in discussions about a delicate matter and determined that Laketown may wish to have a say in the matter.”

“Thorin…” Bard muttered, his gaze moving to the Dwarven-King stood beside Thranduil’s throne. “The King under the mountain! You have returned to reclaim your kingdom? What of the dragon that slumbers in the mountain?”

“Aye, I am Thorin, son of Thrain, grandson of Thror. King of Erebor.” Thorin confirmed, glancing at Thranduil who seemed content with Bard interrogating the dwarf. “I have come to reclaim my home from Smaug the destroyer.”

The men who had travelled with Bard were overjoyed, clear adulation on their faces and Lee felt uncomfortable with how they looked at Thorin. It wasn’t exactly a loving look, but more a desperate, hungry stare they gave the dwarven-king.

Bard’s features remained grim and drawn, as though he were not as pleased as his fellow lake-folk at Thorin’s presence. Lee figured he wasn’t and wondered if he should step in, speak up and explain their plan, but the sound of humming distracted him.

Six men had travelled with Bard from Laketown, each other well-dressed and clearly influential, but they seemed to have forgotten their decorum as they began to sing, their voices echoing in the cavernous throne room.

_“The King beneath the mountains,_

_The King of carven stone,_

_The lord of silver fountains_

_Shall come into his own.”_

Thorin’s face was drawn, emotion welling in his eyes and his skin was pale. Lee could see the effect the men’s singing had on him. It made him mourn and grieve.

_“His crown shall be upholden,_

_His harp shall be restrung,_

_His halls shall echo golden,_

_To songs of yore re-sung._

 

_The woods shall wave on mountains_

_And grass beneath the sun;_

_His wealth shall flow in fountains_

_And the rivers golden run.”_

Bard’s face was like stone, his eyes hard as amber. He did not look at his fellow lake-folk, his gaze instead on Thranduil, Thorin and Lee, taking in their reactions to the singing.

Thorin looked like his heart was breaking, full of emotion and feeling, his eyes wide and his lips parted slightly.

Thranduil betrayed nothing, no twitching muscle or clenched jaw, the only thing that changed were his eyes. They sparked with something fierce and powerful that gave Bard pause.

Lee however seemed a mix between the two. His eyes were unyielding as Bard locked his gaze with him, full of something he couldn’t identify. His body was tense and drawn, hands behind his back but his shoulders were hunched slightly.

They were reacting to the singing of his fellow representatives, to the emotion and joy, and greed that was clear in how they sang passionately of Erebor’s wealth. It was all Bard could tell of them.

_“The streams shall run in gladness,_

_The lakes shall shine and burn,_

_All sorrow fail and sadness_

_At the Mountain-king’s return!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is literally what the people of Laketown sing when Thorin and co. reveal themselves in the town. I figured it'd be good to include it here when Laketown's reps find out about Thorin. That and I really like Tolkien's songs because they're awesome!


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